


Four of Swords

by meridian_rose (meridianrose)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: (Temporarily), (also temporarily), Angst, Bible Quotes, Churches & Cathedrals, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Forced to Watch, Forehead Kisses, Gabriel gets punished, Gabriel is a dick, God Ships Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Happy Ending, Holy Water, Hugs, Human Crowley (Good Omens), Kidnapping, Loss of Powers, M/M, Male Crowley (Good Omens), No Sex, Presumed Dead, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Relationship open to interpretation, Romantic or platonic, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Sort Of (holy water), Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Tarot, Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens), there is no character death I promise!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 07:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21454516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meridianrose/pseuds/meridian_rose
Summary: Crowley finds what he believes to be Aziraphale's dead body and, grief stricken, comes to the conclusion that what they need is a holy final resting place.The real Aziraphale is forced to watch this tragedy unfold.God is not pleased with this turn of events.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 281





	Four of Swords

"Aziraphale!" Crowley strode into the bookshop. "I got your text. I didn't even know you knew how to text! The emojis were a nice touch. I'd love to go to dinner. Aziraphale?"

The shop was seemingly empty. This wasn't unusual, given Aziraphale's attempts to keep customers away, but for Aziraphale himself not to be around? Crowley frowned. He'd come as soon as he could. Why wouldn't Aziraphale be here?

"Aziraphale?" Crowley prowled the store. He moved to the back room where, no doubt, Aziraphale had got distracted restoring a book's binding or something similar in the brief time between him sending the text and Crowley's arrival.

"Come on, angel! Az-"

Crowley stared in horror at the body on the floor. He whipped off his sunglasses, as if they were hampering his vision. The terrible sight remained.

He tried to speak the angel's name but his lips wouldn't form the words.

Crowley fell to his knees alongside the still form. Aziraphale was a little paler than usual, his eyes closed; he looked peaceful. Elegant in the fussily dressed way he preferred. Perfect, except for the hole in his chest.

Crowley brushed his fingers against the wound, the edges blackened and sooty.

Not a bullet wound. Nothing so ordinary. Nothing that Crowley could fix. Nothing that would mean mere discorporation.

Hellfire. They'd burnt out his heart.

Crowley's own heart shattered.

With trembling fingers Crowley caressed Aziraphale's cheek.

"I should have come sooner," he said. "I should have saved you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

A sob escaped Crowley's lips and he bowed his head, let a few tears fall, red droplets staining the angel's shirt and waistcoat. Aziraphale wouldn't have liked that, but the clothes were ruined anyway. 

Everything was ruined.

Crowley wasn't sure why the body hadn't fully burnt up, though he suspected it had somehow been engineered deliberately, so he'd find the corpse and know what had happened. He was less clear on why no-one had stayed behind to taunt him, though maybe they were rightly terrified of his resulting fury. He wished a demon was here for him to hurt. It would let him act out his anger instead of living in this pain.

In fact Crowley thought of two things he'd like to do. One was to march into hell and kill as many demons as he could before they took him down. They deserved it for daring to come after his angel like this...of course this was Crowley's fault, they'd done this to punish him and he'd love to punish them right back. 

However the only other thing that mattered was taking care of Aziraphale. Of his body. It was a mere corporation but wasn't that true of humans, too, their souls inhabiting their bodies while they were on earth? Aziraphale had inhabited this form on earth and now he was gone, and his body needed to be properly taken care of.

Aziraphale had been good and kind and he deserved better than Crowley burying his body in secret, somewhere desolate, or leaving it here on the floor. Aziraphale deserved a funeral and in lieu of that he deserved at least to be laid somewhere holy. A final resting place; yes, that was what they needed.

Crowley gathered up Aziraphale in his arms and carried him outside. He threw a minor glamour around them but otherwise didn't care who saw him, or what they thought of his precious burden, or if they saw his blood streaked cheeks and golden eyes.

*

Getting kidnapped by Gabriel and a couple of his underlings was one thing, being chained to a chair in a sanctimoniously pristine room in heaven was another.

What looked like a window began displaying the bookshop as if via a CCTV camera and what this improvised viewscreen showed was shocking.

"It took some time to acquire a corporation," Gabriel mused as he waved one hand, adjusting the angle of the view to show the body on the floor. It had Aziraphale's face and clothes. It also had a hole in the chest where the heart should be. "Especially one matching your description. And then making that hellfire inflicted wound without burning it up...it's mostly trickery but it looks the part, doesn't it?"

"Why?" Aziraphale asked. To ruin his earthly life, make everyone think he was dead? A few might mourn but the only person who truly cared, the only one who Aziraphale was worried about finding him was–

Crowley. He was just entering the shop, calling Aziraphale's name. Aziraphale realised why Gabriel had picked up the new phone Crowley had insisted Aziraphale try ("You can take photos, and play games and instant message and use the maps app!") and tap at the screen before tossing it aside.

Gabriel gave a smirk. "Because I'm curious. Can a demon love? Does that wretched creature care for you? We'll soon see. If he doesn't care, just walks away, then perhaps you can admit your wrongdoing in fraternizing with him."

Aziraphale lowered his gaze. Crowley did care, and right now he wished it were not the case.

"If he does care," Gabriel said as if reading his thoughts, "then we're going to have some fun!" He clapped Aziraphale's shoulder.

They watched Crowley find the body, Aziraphale trembling with grief and rage.

"It's not me, Crowley," he cried, but Crowley could not hear him.

"Oh, he looks so sad!" Gabriel gave a chuckle and Aziraphale wanted to wrap his hands around Gabriel's throat and choke him out of existence.

The blessed bonds at his wrists and ankles however held him tight. Aziraphale could do nothing but watch, helpless, as Crowley made his way through the London streets.

"Maybe he'll dump you in the river?" Gabriel mused.

That would have been fine with Aziraphale. Anything but what Crowley did next.

"No," Aziraphale begged but after only a moment's hesitation at the edge of the consecrated ground, Crowley headed into a church.

The viewscreen continued to track Crowley's movements as he made his way up the aisle, every step clearly agony, the body clutched tightly against him. Aziraphale felt a tear run down his cheek. He turned his head but Gabriel reached out and grabbed at his hair, pulling his head around.

"You are going to watch every moment," Gabriel said.

Aziraphale stared at the terrible scene again. He could try to close his eyes but Gabriel would only find some way around that too. And didn't he owe Crowley this, to bear witness to his act of love?

Crowley, breathing heavily, reached the altar. He dropped the body roughly onto the white cloth and swept away the unlit candles to clear the space. He positioned the body atop the altar so it looked like a tomb effigy, folding the fake Aziraphale's arms across his chest and pressing the hands together in a rough approximation of prayer.

It reminded Aziraphale of the four of swords in the Rider-Waite Tarot. A card of needing peace and relaxation after fear and stress.

To bring the body to a holy place despite the pain it caused him, to position it as if in sleep and prayer, to echo the card of repose; Aziraphale's heart ached for Crowley's devotion.

"This is my fault. You got killed because of me," Crowley said.

"That's not true," Aziraphale said, shaking his head. For Crowley to blame himself was rancid icing on the top of a shit cake.

"I'm so sorry, Aziraphale. I love you." Crowley's voice broke on those final words.

"Oh this is better than I dared hope for!" Gabriel clapped his hands in excitement.

Crowley gave a sob, leaned over and pressed a kiss to the fake Aziraphale's forehead. Then he staggered away, not back down the aisle but off to the side.

Aziraphale's eyes widened. "No! Crowley, no!"

Oblivious to Aziraphale's pleas, Crowley reached the font. "I'm sorry I don't have it in me for revenge," he said shakily. "This way they won't get the satisfaction of killing me. At least we're together this last time." 

He put his hands on each side of the stone basin.

"No! Please, God, no!" Aziraphale leaned forward in the chair, unable to break the bonds which dug cruelly into his wrists, desperate to save Crowley and knowing it was impossible.

"If you're going to go, then do it in style," Crowley said and threw his head down, dunking his face into the holy water.

Someone was screaming. Aziraphale realised it was him.

And then there was stillness and silence.

Aziraphale was free of his bonds and standing in the church; as he watched the marks on his wrists vanished. Gabriel, puzzled, was sitting on a pew. Crowley lifted his face from the water and instead of the horror Aziraphale was expecting, he saw unmarked flesh. And brown eyes.

Crowley stared at Aziraphale, swaying slightly. He looked at the altar, now empty, then at Aziraphale. "You're not real," he said. "You're dead. I'm dead. Is this Hell? Is this somewhere worse than Hell? I don't understand."

"I'm real," Aziraphale said, moving toward him slowly. "That–that abomination was a trick by Gabriel."

Crowley swallowed hard, wanting to believe, but still unconvinced. He touched his wet face. "Why aren't I dead?"

"Yes," Gabriel said, regaining his composure and springing to his feet. "Why aren't you? Wasn't the water consecrated properly? Did someone forget to bless it?"

"I think you're human," Aziraphale told Crowley. There was not a whiff of demonic energy in the air.

"What?" Crowley stared at Aziraphale as if this was a worse fate than death.

"We'll figure this out," Aziraphale said. He gave a nervous smile. "Nil desperandum and so on."

"It is you." Crowley crumbled all over again but this time Aziraphale was here to catch him. They crouched on the flagstones, Aziraphale's wings sprouting to form a protective shield while he held Crowley close, muttering endearments, and rubbing his thumb over the snake tattoo near Crowley's ear.

"How dare you cradle a demon in God's house!" Gabriel was fuming but Aziraphale didn't care, never taking his eyes off Crowley, wings tensed. Aziraphale might have let Gabriel push him around for millennia but he'd die, literally this time, before he let Gabriel harm Crowley.

"Leave them be," someone said. Aziraphale hadn't heard Her in millennia and he clutched Crowley even closer in a moment of panic, glancing around him but not seeing the Creator.

Gabriel looked around, puzzled. "What is this?"

"This is your time of punishment," She said, and the church was flooded with light, a cold and unforgiving illumination that was almost painful to behold. "I have overlooked your transgressions for too long, Archangel Gabriel."

The voice was everywhere but Gabriel still backed away as if he could escape Her notice. He came to a stop near a pillar.

"I have served you faithfully! He, Aziraphale, he's been fraternizing! With a demon!" Gabriel pointed an accusing finger in Aziraphale's direction. "I was merely trying to show him the error of his ways!"

"And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?"

"Forgive me," Gabriel cried. He spread his arms wide in supplication, eyes raised to the roof and the next moment he was frozen, his skin marble, his suit now a cascade of white robes.

"You will take this time to think on what you have done," She said.

Aziraphale stared in horror. Was Gabriel still aware then? Frozen in place for some indeterminate time?

"Aziraphale," She said.

Crowley winced as Aziraphale's fingers dug into his skin.

"Please," Aziraphale begged. "Let Crowley go. That is all the mercy I ask for."

The light dimmed, reminding him less of the harsh fluorescents of a supermarket and more of a cosy table lamp ideal for reading by during autumn evenings.

"You love Crowley," She said.

"I do." Even if it damned him.

"No," Crowley murmured. "Don't."

"I won't lie. Not to Her and not about this." Aziraphale gave him a genuine smile.

"He loves you also," She said. "Enough to enter a church for you - and not, now I look on it, for the first time. Enough that he did not want to live without you."

Aziraphale swallowed. "It would seem so. I'm angry with that latter part myself." He gazed down at Crowley. "You can always find joy in this world. Even without me in it."

"No," Crowley said. "I don't…didn't…deserve to live after I got you killed, or thought I did…it's confusing. The point is, without you the world would be grey and dull. Although...things look a little strange right now. Weird, human eyes."

"I had to turn you human to save your life," She said. "When he saw you were about to plunge into holy water, Aziraphale called out for divine intervention.""

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "You saw that?" he asked Aziraphale.

"Gabriel made me watch."

Crowley shook his head, and muttered, "Bastard."

"Despite his words to you now," She said, ignoring Crowley's utterance, "when he watched you try to end your existence Aziraphale too felt that he had lost everything that made life meaningful."

"Angel! Your books, your wine, your desserts. You'd have all those still."

"I fear the finest dessert in the world would taste like ash," Aziraphale admitted, "without you there beside me."

Crowley got to his feet slowly, Aziraphale helping him. The angel folded away his wings and then took Crowley's hand. They would face Her judgement together.

"So, what now?" Crowley asked.

"Most divine," Aziraphale began, trying to ask the same question in a more respectful manner.

"Now, my children," She said, interrupting him, "leave this place. Go back to the home you have made for yourselves and know this ordeal is over."

Aziraphale frowned. "You're not going to punish me?" Surely the "mote in his eye" She had referred to was his angelic love for a demon.

Crowley gave him a look, like he'd reminded the teacher she hadn't given out homework assignments after the bell had rang for end of class.

"I never punish love. You called on Me in despair, out of love, and I could not ignore the plea of my Guardian of the Eastern Gate."

Aziraphale swallowed nervously, bobbed his head.

"Know this, whatever transgressions you have committed are forgiven, Aziraphale. You have never acted out of hate, and have always been a beacon of light and love on earth. Now take Crowley home, Aziraphale, and let him rest."

She was gone, leaving them alone in the dim church, with its new statue.

Crowley pulled away from Aziraphale and wandered over to inspect the marble sculpture. He tipped his head from side to side, stuck out his tongue. Gabriel did not move.

"Come on," Aziraphale said, bustling over and taking Crowley's arm. "We should go home."

He was fairly certain that God had told them the bookshop was home to them both and therefore Crowley ought to move in, but this wasn't perhaps the time to mention it.

*

Crowley was shivering by the time they got back to the shop. Aziraphale turned on the heating and pressed a hot toddy into his hands. He covered Crowley's legs with a tartan blanket and slipped one arm around his shoulders, aware that the trembling was only partly physical in cause.

In truth he was shaken himself and holding Crowley close was soothing him too.

"Falling was bad enough," Crowley said distantly. "This is something else. The ordeal is over? I'm still human!"

Aziraphale wondered if he ought to have asked to be made human too. He didn't voice this aloud in case it upset Crowley further. Nor did he dare unfold his wings as part of him ached to do, to shield Crowley from the harshness of the world, in case it reminded Crowley of what he'd lost.

"You tried to obliterate yourself," Aziraphale said, careful not to sound angry. "I'd rather have you human than not here."

Crowley took a sip of his drink. "I'd rather be human than not have you," he agreed. "Angel–"

"Sssh," Aziraphale soothed as words failed Crowley and human tears welled up. "I'm here. We're together. For now, that's enough."

Eventually Crowley slept, draped over Aziraphale in what looked like an uncomfortable position, but his human body perhaps recalled his demonic form and the way it had an aversion to sitting up straight or lying down neatly.

Aziraphale stroked at Crowley's hair, mind racing. This would be an adjustment but they'd find ways to manage. He'd told Crowley they'd figure it out and he would be true to his word. Perhaps he could find a way to join Crowley in mortal form. Perhaps they could talk to Adam; it was uncertain what powers he still had or how they might work but given how easily he'd given Aziraphale his body back it was worth considering. 

Around 4am Aziraphale closed his eyes. Unlike Crowley he didn't have much affection for sleep, but it had been a terrible few hours and he thought a couple of minutes rest couldn't hurt.

*

Something was tickling Aziraphale and he chuckled. A warm arm hugged his ribs and Aziraphale opened his eyes slowly. He regained his senses in a rush; bookshop, Crowley, human...

Crowley was not human. It was not an arm embracing Aziraphale but a snake's coil.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale deserved the mocking hiss he got for phrasing it as a question. Who else would it be. "My dear."

Another hiss but this one was more affectionate. Crowley's head rested on Aziraphale's shoulder, tongue licking at the air. Aziraphale ran one hand over the scales of the lithe body.

"Do you want to be more human shaped and I'll make some breakfast?"

A more reluctant hiss. Aziraphale interpreted it as that Crowley couldn't rather than wouldn't.

"Well I'll make breakfast anyway," Aziraphale said. "I'll put you something in a bowl. Some milk or some bacon?"

Not the things one would feed to an actual snake, reptiles avoiding milk as a mammalian food, but this was Crowley, and Aziraphale was fairly certain the idea of swallowing a live rodent or amphibian whole was as repellent to Crowley as it was to him. Snake shaped, not truly a snake.

Making breakfast was difficult with Crowley persisting in curling up around Aziraphale as he worked, nearly tripping him up several times. After the previous day's events however Aziraphale couldn't be angry with him.

Crowley lapped at some warm milk and swallowed half a bacon sandwich in one gulp. Aziraphale remembered that some snakes ate eggs and again, while Crowley wouldn't want to eat a whole one raw, perhaps they could have hardboiled eggs for lunch with a nice salad.

Snake!Crowley was a step in the right direction but was a little more unusual to have as a companion than human!Crowley. For one thing if a customer saw him Aziraphale could get a visit from the RSPCA asking about the giant serpent lurking in the bookshop.

Aziraphale cleaned up the kitchen and then dusted some of the bookshelves in the hope that these mundane things might help calm his mind.

"Missssed a bit," Crowley said, and Aziraphale nearly dropped the feather duster in surprise.

"Oh, I see. Yes." He brushed at the missed volume and then turned to Crowley who was curled up in a chair, watching him intently. "You're getting your words back."

Crowley's head bobbed up and down and then he tucked his head into his coils and slept. Aziraphale busied himself with mopping the floor and then made himself a pot of tea and read for a while. Crowley did not stir and Aziraphale did not disturb him.

As night fell Crowley woke up. He slithered onto the floor and stretched. With some effort, it seemed, his form shifted. Black wings shimmered into existence before they vanished, while scales were being replaced with pale skin. Crowley was soon human again, crouched on all fours.

"You're naked," Aziraphale said faintly.

"Right." Black clothing appeared and Crowley stood. His hair was a little longer than before, there was a smattering of freckles across his nose, and his jacket was a different style but he was otherwise exactly as he had been before the incident at the church. His eyes were their usual golden colour and Aziraphale smiled.

"You're back." Aziraphale placed his hands on Crowley's shoulders, relief warming every part of him.

Crowley hugged Aziraphale, held him tight until his grip became almost painful. "Don't leave me."

"I won't," Aziraphale said, holding him close.

"I thought I'd lost you."

"I know. It was just a nasty trick and Gabriel has paid for it."

Crowley pulled back at that. "She was there."

"Yes."

"She saved me."

"She did."

Crowley thought about this, conflicting emotions flickering across his face. "She could have left me human. Or made me an angel again."

"Perhaps this is who you are meant to be. It is, in some way, what you chose and She is respecting that choice."

Crowley nodded but this was something he'd need more time to consider. Time they had, now.

"She said She wouldn't punish you. Us," he said and Aziraphale nodded.

"I do not think She disapproves," Aziraphale said, unwilling to go so far as to say aloud that She approved of them, but certain they were not doing anything sinful. She had acknowledged their love and he cherished that.

"Stuff's more fun when it's wrong," Crowley said, though it was clearly only a token rebellion.

"You silly old snake," Aziraphale said and pulled him close again, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"Angel...in the church, I said," Crowley hesitated a moment, "I said I loved you."

"Yes." Aziraphale kept his tone neutral, not certain how Crowley felt about the admission.

"It was the first time I said those words. I waited until I thought you were dead to say them!"

"Sssh," Aziraphale said, squeezing him tighter to try and prevent the spiral Crowley was falling into. "It's all right. I've known for a long time and I don't need you to say it."

"I want to say it to you. At least this once," Crowley said. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Crowley pulled away and stuck his hands in his pockets, pretended to browse the shelves while he regained his composure, "You're such a packrat," he observed.

"Mostly just books," Aziraphale said in his own defence.

"I don't have a lot of stuff. The things I have are important to me but it's not like a whole bookshop of stuff." Crowley waved his hands vaguely.

Aziraphale nodded. Crowley's flat could make a minimalist weep with joy. "I suppose I could move a few things around," he hinted.

"Could just miracle another room upstairs," Crowley said and later that day promptly did so.

*

Aziraphale went back to the church on Sunday, while Crowley was finishing moving in to the bookshop. He hadn't been to a service in years but he felt it was appropriate to do so today.

He offered thanks for Crowley being saved and for his own rescue. He stared at Gabriel, the statue that the humans seemed to have accepted as always having been there.

Afterwards he took Crowley on a picnic and they talked about anything except Gabriel and that terrible day.

Hand in hand they watched the sunset and then went home.


End file.
